


The Merc with a Past

by quinoaquin



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Spideypool - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:33:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 14,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinoaquin/pseuds/quinoaquin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spider-Man gets thrown into the past. Naturally, he goes to find little Wade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out as a one-shot with tumblr-ask-length parts, so the pace is pretty fast the first few chapters. Slows down eventually.

Anyways, Spidey gets thrown into the past. 

Wait, hold up - isn't that dangerous? Like, he farts in the wrong place at the wrong time and future gets fucked up? Nah. See, altering the past doesn't alter _his_ future - it just alters that universe's future. It's like multi-verses, you know? So, Spidey has the advantage of knowing what happened in the past but also has the ability to change it - for this universe, at least. 

Naturally, he goes to find little Wade.

\---

What… a… dump. Wow. Definitely feels like the kind of place Deadpool grew up in. 

Admittedly, Peter doesn’t know much about his past. He makes jokes when he’s trying to cover up that he’s lying, and he makes jokes when he’s trying to cover up that he’s telling the truth. It’s hard to tell. But one thing’s for sure. He knows Wade needs to be saved from his past. 

\---

Peter can’t speak. 

His ears are ringing, pulsing. He feels like he’s out of phase with reality. These aren’t time-travel side-affects. It’s Spider-man fighting Peter. Justice and morality fighting Peter’s blinding rage.  
He’s never felt such a strong urge to kill. The man on the ground covered in unnecessary amounts of web is struggling to breathe. The boy on the bed is staring wide-eyed at the masked man in his room. 

“It’s okay. I’m a super-hero. I’ve come to save you, Wade.” 

This Wade isn’t covered in scars and sores from a deadly disease held back by enhanced healing abilities, cancer eating away at his body every second of every day. This Wade is covered in scars much more terrible than that. 

“Are you really a hero? A real one?” 

Spider-man helps him put on his coat and shoes. 

“Yes, a real one.” Peter says, taking his small hand and pulling him gently from the bed. 

“Wait. Please… Please save someone else then. I’m not important.“


	2. Chapter 2

Peter kneels down in front of the boy, still holding his hand. 

"You are important. Wade, you are important." 

The boy stares at him. It reminds him of Deadpool, of when he's arguing with the voices inside his head, debating his worth. But little Wade is not so good at hiding his feelings yet. Peter doesn't miss the tiny spark of hope he sees in the boy's eyes. 

Then the man on the ground opens his mouth and yells Wade's name.

Spider-man covers his face in web, doesn’t care if he can’t breathe. But it’s too late. The boy’s pulling his hands from Peter’s, takes one, two, three steps back until his back hits the wall. 

“I’m nobody. I’m nothing. Please believe me.” he says quietly. 

“Wade,” Peter walks up to him, ignoring the scared look on the boy’s face. “Listen to me. Listen. I’m from the future. I came here just to save you. You are important, Wade. You are a hero.” 

\---

This time the time jump doesn’t make him throw up. Could be because he’s returning to his own universe - that would explain why the boy is crouching up in the corner gagging. Or it could be the stench of Deadpool’s apartment. 

He hopes Wade’s not home. He told the boy he’s going to be a hero. And, well… Deadpool’s Deadpool. He needs to talk to him first. Not in front of the boy. 

"Spidey, did you just come in through a time vortex? Wait, are you from the future? Did we do it in the butt yet?"

Okay. Peter, you’re the only adult in this room right now. Handle the situation. 

"Uh, did you kidnap a child? From the future? Is he a robot?" 

Whenever you’re ready, Peter. Say. Something. 

"I- He’s, uh…" 

Aaand it’s too late. Young Wade has turned around and he’s staring at the big, scary block of muscles wrapped in red and black. As terrified as the kid looks, judging by Deadpool’s body language the little boy’s not the most scared person in this room. 

Yeah… Deadpool knows. But, Peter figures… If anyone understands what little Wade is going through- 

"Hey, little fella. What’s your name?" 

Wow. Okay. He’s misjudged this situation. He’s misjudged Deadpool, he’s- 

"W-Wade Wilson, s-sir." 

This is weird. But it feels good. Peter can’t help but smile. 

"Well, Wade Wilson, can I ask you a question?" 

Maybe he should give them some privacy. This is something the two of them might need to- 

"Did you like it?" 

Deadpool’s bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

"L-Like what?" 

Deadpool leans in closer to the boy’s face. 

"Did you like spreading your little legs for your old man?"


	3. Chapter 3

Peter isn't always very nice to Wade. 

But they haven't always been Peter and Wade to each other, and Spider-man was never nice to Deadpool. Those memories aren't the cringe-worthy kind that make you embarrassed when you think about them. They're the kind that make Peter feel like a terrible, horrible, awful human being. If he heard someone say some of those things to Deadpool now, he would kick their asses.

But sometimes… Sometimes Deadpool does something that washes all that guilt away. Sometimes he does something so terrible, Peter wishes he had a list of all the horrible things he’s said to Wade just so he could read it to him again. Sometimes Deadpool is the worst person he’s ever met. 

Spider-man just stands there, staring at the mercenary in utter disbelief.

"Hey, what’s wrong, little guy? I know you’re not very bright but that was a yes or no question, come on now." 

Peter’s frozen. He opens his mouth, tries to kickstart his brain. 

»Deadpool…« 

Surprisingly, he’s not ignored. 

»Hey, you’re the smart one here, Petey-pie, maybe you can help me understand,« he says, but his eyes never leave the boy. 

He straightens, towering over the scrawny kid whose pleading eyes have no effect on Deadpool. 

»If he didn’t like it, why wouldn’t he get his old man’s gun and blow his brains out?« he asks sweetly. 

»Deadpool…« 

»If he didn’t like it, why would he get on his knees again, and again, and again, and let daddy-» 

»DEADPOOL!« 

The moment he turns around to look at Peter, the little boy darts past Deadpool, running to the small bathroom and closing the door. 

Peter’s trying to decide whether he should run after him or stay here and break Deadpool’s neck. The rage he felt when he was in that room in the past is coming back. He told him he was a hero, that he was there to save him. And this is where he brings him. This is who he exposes this young, vulnerable, fragile child to, to this- to this monster, to-… to Wade Wilson. 

The boy himself. 

Deadpool is sitting on the edge of the sofa, his mask in his hands. And he's… silent. 

»What you just did, Wade… That was inexcusable. You know that, don’t you?« 

No movement. 

»I… I know this is hard for you, too. I know that, okay?« 

Still not a sound. 

»But he is a little kid, Wade. God, to have someone say those things to him, after- after-« 

Deadpool stands up so abruptly, Peter flinches and knocks down a beer bottle. 

»You…« he spits vehemently, taking long strides towards Peter. 

»Have no… fucking… idea… what he’s feeling.« 

Peter has never seen Wade this close up, not without his mask. The scars are staring at him as aggressively as Wade’s eyes. Accusing. 

»You took from him one of the most important parts of his life, _hero_. Watching his old man drop to the ground and choke on his own blood.« 

His hand’s pressing against Peter’s windpipe painfully hard now.

»He’s not "a little kid”. He’s me. I didn’t just decide to become the piece of trash I am today, Spider-man. I was born it. I was born worthless.«


	4. Chapter 4

There's that horrible feeling again. 

The pain in his chest, like when he thinks about the times he's hurt Deadpool, treated him badly. 

A moment and it's gone. 

No. Nope. No freakin' way is he feeling bad for defending a child from a mercenary psychopath. 

He pushes him off and the man stumbles backwards, looks at Peter for a moment and turns around to leave.

Fine. Good. No, actually - great. He can’t deal with his crap, not now. Not when there’s a little boy in the bathroom, probably more scared than he ever was in his life – or as scared as he’s used to being, Peter’s not sure which is worse. 

By the time he notices that Deadpool’s not heading for the exit, the bathroom door’s already been kicked down, and by the time he gets there, Deadpool’s already holding the kid with one arm. 

»Let him go right now or I swear-« 

»Come on, Spider-man, he belongs to me more than he does to you, just think about it. I mean, _technically_ , this is an invasion of privacy. You-« 

Deadpool freezes. 

Everything’s quiet except the police siren in the distance. 

But then Peter hears it too. 

»Please don’t hurt me, please, please, please don't…« 

Deadpool drops him. 

The kid stumbles as fast as he can towards Spider-man and wraps his arms around his waist as tightly as he can. 

»It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe. He won’t hurt you, I promise. You’re safe, Wade.« 

Police siren, quiet sobbing, the words »you’re safe« on repeat. 

Deadpool presses a gun between his own eyes and pulls the trigger.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter's ears are ringing. The boy's struggling in his arms. Is he holding him too tightly? He loosens his grip a little and looks down. 

»It's okay, Wade, it's-« 

Young Wade breaks free and runs across the bathroom to where the dead body in sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood around it's head. He drops to his knees next to the man's head and looks up at Peter. 

»Call a doctor! Quick!« 

»Wade…« 

Wade's pressing his ear against the man's chest, listening for a heartbeat. 

»He's hurt! Hurry!«

Peter gently pulls him up and away from the body. 

»Listen, he’s never going to hurt you again, I promise.« 

The boy looks even more terrified now. Oh, Peter, you are so great at this. 

»I-I mean, he’s not dead or anything. He’s going to be okay.« 

Wade turns around to look at the body and gives Peter a doubtful look. 

»He’s, uh… Well, he has superpowers.« 

»H-He’s a super-hero? Like you?« 

That’s what you said back in the past, wasn’t it, Peter? This kid’s really going to get the wrong impression about modern day super heroes. 

»Kinda. I guess. Uh, listen. Deadpool, he's… He’s sad too. Sometimes when people are hurting, they think hurting others will make them feel better.« 

Wade’s listening so carefully, Peter feels nervous. He should’ve just time-jumped into a psychiatrist’s office and save this kid the extra trauma. 

»He didn’t really mean to hurt you. He was just taking it out on you because he was so sad. Do you understand?« 

Wade’s got a concetrated look on his face, really putting everything into trying to understand what Spider-man is saying to him. He turns around to look at the body. 

»How can he feel less sad by making others sad?« 

»I’m not sure, Wade. It’s just the way he is.« 

Wade nods once slowly, then twice more confidently. 

»Okay. I understand.« 

He looks up at Peter and gives him a tiny smile. Peter can’t believe this is Wade Wilson.

»Come on,« he takes his small hand and leads him towards the door. 

»Wait.« 

Wade’s pulling Peter back with one hand and pointing at the body on the ground with the other.

»What about Mr. Deadpool?« 

Peter pats his head lightly, »Hey, I told you, he’ll be okay, he’s got - « 

»But shouldn’t we put him on a bed?« 

Peter frowns. 

»It doesn’t matter. He can’t feel anything right now.« 

»But - « 

Peter pulls at his hand again gently, »Come on, I’ll make you something to eat. How about some pancakes? You must be - « 

And Wade’s pulling right back, but this time with enough force to pull his hand from Peter’s. 

He walks back to the corpse and sits down next to it, right into a puddle of blood. 

»Wade, what are you - « 

»He’ll want someone to be here when he wakes up.« 

Peter sees the resemblance for the first time - they’re both stubborn as hell. 

»Wade, just… Look. I know him, okay? I’m telling you, he doesn’t care, he - « 

»Maybe _you_ don’t care. M-Maybe he won’t like waking up on the cold floor where we left him while we- while we eat pancakes. Maybe the reason he wants to make other people sad is because no one cares that he’s sad!«


	6. Chapter 6

Peter was cleaning the pancake off the floor absent-mindedly. 

Great. Just great. Living with Deadpool was enough of an emotional roller-coaster as it is, now there were two Wades in his life to make him feel like crap. 

Apparently Deadpool had an unhealthy amount of empathy in his early teens. But that doesn't change anything, it doesn't change who he is today. He's not going to care when he wakes up. 

He's not going to care that little Wade looked at Peter so accusingly, insisting he carries Deadpool to his bed. He's not going to care that little Wade searched the entire apartment to find a clean sheet to cover him with, or that he put his mask back on his face, or that he scrubbed the bathroom floor clean, or that he's now sitting next to him waiting for him to wake up. 

He's not going to apologize for blowing his brains out in front of a child like a _normal_ freakin' person would. No, he's going to say something awful to Wade the second he opens his eyes and pretend to care about getting blood on the mattress just so he can give Peter a hard time about it. 

That's who Deadpool is. He's not going to change, and that's fine, Peter's at peace with the fact. But little Wade's not, and he's going to be disappointed. He's going to learn that treating people kindly doesn't mean they're going to return the favour, and that was probably exactly what Deadpool realized at some point in his past. It's too late for Deadpool but Peter can't let Wade grow up to be like that. 

\---  
Wade looked through the small hole in the man's mask. The wound was completely healed. He really is a super-hero!

"Ughf- wha-?"

Wade jumped back. The masked man groaned then stilled. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

He didn't know why, but he felt like the man wouldn't really hurt him - at least not physically. But he didn't want to say the wrong thing, didn't want to upset him. He swallowed nervously.

"I was waiting for you to wake up."

"You really are stupid, aren't you?"

Wade hung his head and stared at his hands. He used to do okay in school. His teacher always said he was very bright. But school wasn't important, good grades didn't mean he was smart. Anyone can do well at school, didn't mean they weren't stupid. That's what his dad always said.

"Sorry."

Wade looked up. The man was sitting up on the bed, also looking at his hands. He said it so quietly, Wade wasn't sure if he heard it right. But it didn't matter.

"Peter is making pancakes."


	7. Chapter 7

Deadpool didn't like thinking about his past. His pre-cancer life. 

But his childhood was something he _didn't_ think about. Ever. Even the boxes who loved putting great effort into making him miserable knew those memories were off limits. But even a pro at repressing memories like him couldn't keep those memories from surfacing when his past was standing before him, in the flesh. So his brain took the opportunity - it convinced itself that they are not the same person, and that it could blame this kid for everything Deadpool endured when he was a child. It was liberating. Suddenly, it didn't have to be his fault anymore. There was a real person standing before him who he could blame. 

But as crazy as Deadpool was, he couldn't manage to keep believing that. The illusion shattered when he heard the boy's soft voice, the quiet begging, the endless, _useless_ repeating of the words "stop" and "please," two words he said as a kid so many times and so often until he wasn't sure he remembered how to say anything else. 

Half a dozen sarcastic remarks crossed Deadpool's mind when he saw Peter in the kitchen making pancakes but he just quietly made his way to the table and sat down next to Wade.

He remembers the first time Spider-Man laughed at his joke. Deadpool could barely keep his heart from exploding. 

He remembers when they were sitting on a roof one quiet night, and Spider-Man's mask was rolled up to his nose because they were eating. He smiled six times that night. Deadpool couldn't sleep for two days. The boxes tried to ruin it all but it didn't work. _He made Spider-man smile_. 

He remembers the first time he saw Peter's face. "Oh my god, this is so spicy, I'm actually crying," he said and pulled his mask off. Deadpool does not associate that moment in his life with positive feelings. It had been a long time since he felt so dirty and hideous. He felt like his very presence was an insult. 

A pancake landed on the plate set in front of him. 

"No masks at the table, mister, 's not polite," Peter said with forced cheer and sat down across from him and Wade.

"Ruining everyone's appetite's not polite either."

Deadpool kept his head low, pretending not to look at him. Peter sighed softly and stabbed at his pancake. 

"These pancakes don't look like much but they're really good," little Wade said.

"Hey!" Peter looked really offended, even more so when Wade ignored him and turned to Deadpool.

"It's not what's on the outside that counts. Everybody knows that."

Figures it would take breaking the laws of physics and a time machine for Wade Wilson to finally be kind to himself.


	8. Chapter 8

It's 3 in the morning and Peter's lying awake, wondering how the hell he went from being the hero to being the bad guy.

Little Wade decided to blame all of Deadpool's horrible behaviour on _him_. As if every time Deadpool acts like an obnoxious, mean, freakin' _evil_ asshole, it's because Peter hasn't been patting him enough or giving him lollipops every time he doesn't kill innocent old ladies.

Okay, so he's not always very nice to Deadpool, but Peter saved little Wade from his horrific life and ever since he's done nothing but try his best - unlike Deadpool. All _he_ did was help traumatize the kid further, then he runs away from the situation by _shooting himself in the head_ in front of him, and now little Wade acts like he's the hero. 

And when he offered to take him to his nice, comfortable, safe, _clean_ place, Wade insisted they spend the night at Deadpool's. But wait, there's more. He wanted to sleep in _Deadpool_ 's bed. _Next to Deadpool_.

Oh god, he can't believe he left him there all alone with the mercenary. He is so irresponsible. It's not like he thinks Deadpool would actually hurt him or anything, but dealing with someone as unstable and unpredictable as that, you never know what to expect.

\---

Deadpool was woken by a scream. Within half a second he was holding his gun and pointing it at- Oh. The kid.

The kid was sitting on the edge of the bed, curled up in a ball, sobbing. Deadpool put his gun down.

"Aren't you a little old to be waking up adults in the middle of the night crying?"

Wade didn't move. Or stop crying.

"Do you have the healing factor yet? Can I shoot you?"

Nothing. 

"Okay, that's enough of that now."

He reached over to touch the boy's shoulder and he shrieked. His eyes focused on Deadpool, frightened. In a few seconds Wade seemed to realize where he was and he threw his arms around the man. 

"I'm so scared," he whispered.

Deadpool was quiet and unmoving for a long time. Then Wade felt the heavy arms on his shoulders. He was pushed away gently.

"I, uh... Maybe I should go call Petey. Yeah, you should talk to Petey."

"I don't want to talk to him," Wade said as he hugged him again, this time more firmly.

"Why not?"

"He's mean."

What?! Spidey? Mean?

"Spidey is the nicest boy in the world."

"Not to you he's not."

This kid really is stupid. Spidey is the nicest anyone's _ever_ been to him as far as he can remember. He spends time with him even though he doesn't have to. He implied that they were _actual friends_ like three times. _The_ Spider-Man. Friends with Deadpool. Once, he said he "wasn't such a bad guy." Sometimes he _doesn't_ break his nose when he makes inappropriate comments about his butt. He makes him pancakes, for fuck's sake. 

"Is too."

"Then why was he going to just leave you on the floor when you were hurt? And why didn't he tell you it was okay to take your mask off?"

So laying him on the bed wasn't his idea. Well, of course it wasn't. Spidey knows he doesn't care about stuff like that. And he's never said anything about Deadpool's scars bothering him before. It's not his fault Deadpool's a 14 year old girl who needs constant reassurance. Even someone as nice as Petey is eventually bound to get sick of his shit.

"You have really high expectations of people for a kid whose father beat and raped him."

Wade's demeanour changed drastically. He pulled away from Deadpool, his eyes watering, and quickly left the room.

 _[You never fail to amaze us]_ , the boxes commented.

\---

"You're not supposed to just say everything you're thinking."

Deadpool opened his eyes to see Wade standing in front of his bed. 

"That's only if you care about other people's feelings."

He grabbed his mask off the bed stand and pulled it over his face. Does he seriously have to deal with this kid first thing in the morning? Wade was holding up a cup of coffee. 

"Wow, coffee? How old are you? Sigh, kids these-days-20-years-ago."

"It's for you," he said, pushing the cup in Deadpool's hands. "Peter said you hurt others because you think it will make you feel better."

 _That_ would've been fun to watch. Spidey struggling to make shit up so he doesn't tell a little kid sometimes people are just fucking assholes.

"Kid, hurting people is my job _and_ my hobby".

He didn't seem impressed by that. Aren't teenage boys supposed to find scary, scarred men who kill people for money cool?

"Aren't you a super-hero?"

Deadpool spit his coffee all over the already blood-soaked bed.

"Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"Peter said so. And you have super-powers."

"Okay, well, Peter was lying because he doesn't want to ruin your sweet innocence with facts, and I use my super-powers like any sane, logical person would - to make money."

The look on the kid's face helped Deadpool understand why Peter lied. His eyebrows lifted slightly then turned into a sad frown, his eyes slowly falling from Deadpool's face to the ground. He knows that look. Petey does it _aaaall_ the time. What's it called again? Oh, right. Disappointment. 

Spider-Man doesn't have to lie about who he is and what he does. He's an actual hero. He doesn't only help little old ladies cross the street because that's part of his cover. He goes out of his way to _not_ kill people. Even the bad guys. He is every girl and guy's wet dream, and every kid's regular, non-sexual dream.

"I only kill bad guys."

Ha ha. Liar.

"Really?" Wade asked with such hope, it almost made Deadpool feel a little guilty.

"Uh, yeah. So that doesn't bother you?"

Wade bit his lip and thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"How bad do they have to be?"

"Uh, like, moderately bad."

"Is my dad bad enough?"

Deadpool tensed. He really needs to ask that? If the man who abused him for years was "moderately bad"? If the kid was moderately fucking smart he would've figured that out years ago and killed him himself. But he wasn't. He was a stupid fucking kid.

Wade must've sensed Deadpool's anger. He took a few steps back.

"I-It's okay, you don't have to answer that."

Deadpool grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back. 

"I know you're too fucking stupid to understand this, but try anyway. Your father was the worst piece of shit to ever walk this earth. Death would be too kind for him. You didn't deserve what happened and none of it was your fault. This is the last fucking time we talk about this so either stop whining or find Peter and share your girly feelings with him."

They sat there in silence, Deadpool sipping his coffee grumpily, Wade hugging his large arm, head resting on his shoulder.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this badly written piece of writing to the only person excited about this story, rain1975! Yaaay!

"What are we having for lunch?"

Deadpool's sitting on the couch playing a video game while Wade is attempting to clean up the apartment. So far he's encountered two rats, five uneaten tacos and thirteen various body parts. 

"Uh huh."

Make that fourteen body parts. He throws the finger into the trash bag. 

"Deadpool, I'm hungry."

"Deadpool. Hello? The kitchen's on fire. I found a hand grenade. I broke your sword. Are you in love with Peter?"

"What?" Deadpool leaped up from the couch.

"I'm hungry," Wade says, dropping the bag.

"Oh, uh... I think there are some tacos under the bed."

"With mold."

"Did you say something about Peter?"

"I don't know, maybe. Are you gonna make lunch?"

Deadpool dropped back on the couch. The screen said "GAME OVER". He could swear the kid mentioned Peter.

 _[This is getting pathetic, buddy]_ one of the boxes sighed.

It started with a perfectly innocent and a little creepy obsession with Spider-Man. Hey, worshipping super-heroes is not _that_ weird. But now he only gets excited to see Spider-Man because he knows Peter Parker is under all that spandex. _Not that he minds the spandex._ He used to make crude comments and stupid jokes so that Spidey would turn around to walk away and he'd get a glimpse of his majestic ass. Now he makes jokes to see Petey's smile. 

_[Is he being serious right now]_

He tries so hard to be a better person. To make Petey proud. It's fucking exhausting. 

_{Aren't we forgetting something?}_

_[Yeah, we're ugly as fuck]_

"Petey doesn't care about that."

They boxes burst into laughter and it kept getting louder, until it turned into a painful, screeching sound echoing through Deadpool's head. 

He's not sure how long it lasted but when he looked up, Wade was standing on the opposite side of the room, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Whoops. Did I do something scary slash creepy just now? My bad."

He got up and walked to the kitchen where he started going through the drawers, babbling something about food and incompetent children. Wade followed him carefully.

"Who were you talking to?"

He found enough ingredients to make a few pancakes.

"The voices in my head. If you're lucky you'll get to meet them some day."

"Are they mean to you?"

"They can be assholes sometimes."

Wade helped mix the batter while Deadpool heated up the pan.

"I asked if you were in love with Peter."

Deadpool spilled a ladle of batter over the counter.

"What?"

"Are you in love with Peter?"

That is a strong word. That is a very, very strong word. He loves his guns. He loves The Golden Girls. He loves Mexican food.

"I love Mexican food."

"Would you rather eat Mexican food or kiss Peter?"

Deadpool spilled the second ladle.

"Mexican food, okay?!"

Deadpool turned off the stove and sat down at the table. Yes, he's imagined kissing Peter about a million times. Among other things. But that doesn't mean he wants to _actually_ do it. That would be selfish. And he doesn't want to be selfish with Peter. He likes the feeling of Peter touching him, when he nudges him playfully, or when he sits down too close, or when he puts his hand on his arm, or cleans dried blood off his face, but he doesn't like the _idea_ of it. Especially not when he's not in his Spidey suit. It's like letting him pick up dog shit with his bare hands. 

"Peter would rather kiss you."

What is wrong with this kid?

"Peter would rather eat a dead Mexican."

"We were watching a cooking show and they were making burritos."

"So?"

"So when you came out of the bathroom wearing a towel he looked away."

"Yeah, no kidding." Who wouldn't?

"I mean away from the TV."

_(What?)_ , the boxes said in unison. 

"He wants to kiss you. I can tell."

Deadpool stood up and walked back to turn on the stove. He's better off taking advice from the voices in his head than a 12-year-old. This kid thinks life's a fucking fairytale. 

_{Pretty sure he knows that's not true better than most people}_

"Who wants to kiss who?"

Wade and Deadpool turned around to see Peter standing there, holding bags of groceries.

"A cute boy wants to kiss Deadpool."

Batter dripped to the floor off the ladle Deadpool was holding.

"Oh. Oh, okay. Really? Okay."

Peter started picking items out of the bags and putting them on the table, dropping everything at least once.

"That's- that's great, really great, what's his name? Is he cute? Oh, right, you already said he was, haha, I'm so forgetful, I forget everything. Forgetful Peter. I brought some maple syrup. We can put it on the pancakes. Do you like maple syrup, Wade? Deadpool likes it. Maple syrup and boys. Hahaha."

"Uh, Spidey, are you okay?" Deadpool asked, catching an apple before it fell off the table.

"Me? Of course! Why wouldn't I be? Oh, I just remembered I forgot my credit card at the store."

"You don't have a credit card."

Peter stepped aside to walk around Deadpool at the same time as Deadpool tried to move out of the way. They bumped into each other and Peter jump back.

"I'll just go out the window," Peter exclaimed with a weird laugh. "Bye!"

There was a loud bang and the sound of bottles breaking, followed by an overly cheerful "I'm okay!"


	10. Chapter 10

Deadpool finished making the pancakes - which was two because that's all the batter he had left - while Wade sat at the table and shared his stupid, irrelevant opinion on what just happened. How the hell did he remember Petey's every word? 

"... so that proves he wants to kiss you."

Deadpool stopped listening two pancakes ago.

"You say that again and I'm pouring hot oil down your throat," he said as he dropped one pancake on Wade's plate, and one on his. He sat down across from him and rolled up his mask.

_[Wow, he actually thinks the kid might be right]_

_{Shhh, be nice to him or he'll blow his brains out}_

Deadpool had gotten a lot better at not responding to the boxes out loud since he's been hanging out with Spidey. Peter tried really hard to pretend it didn't bother him, but Deadpool could always tell. Peter's attitude changed, immediately he started being more careful about how he acted and what he said. Like he remembered that he was hanging out with a fucking crazy person. And the worst part? A few times he'd felt like Peter was actually scared of him. 

"But it's _true_."

"What I said last night was true and you were still pissy about it."

"Because it was mean, what you said."

Yeah, it was. But so is saying Petey would ever consider dirtying his perfect, soft lips with Deadpool's. He shivered just thinking about it.

"But you should be ready just in case. You haven't brushed your teeth in two days."

"Two days, sure. You sweet, sweet, innocent child."

Wade sighed loudly. Everyone always sighs loudly when dealing with Deadpool sooner or later. Usually, Deadpool gets it. He's often annoying on purpose, or he just can't help himself. But sometimes he tries really hard not to be. He tries to help the heroes, do what they do, save unimportant civilians he doesn't care about, beat up the bad guys without killing them because apparently that's a no-no, tries to shut up and not make jokes. It doesn't make a difference. They don't want to be his friends, or mentors. They laugh when he asks. Think it's a joke. He says he's being serious and they find it even funnier.

"They don't sound like heroes."

Whoops. Unintentionally shared feelings.

"Trust me, they're the real deal. Maybe Spidey can take you to meet them. You gotta know the super-heroes if you wanna be cool, kid. You're not gonna get far with the babes with 80's trivia. Oh, wait 'till you meet the Cap, he is the _best_."

"I already know the best super-hero."

"Duh! I meant _besides_ Spidey, obviously," Deadpool mumbled around the toothbrush in his mouth. Not sure how it got there. God, has he even brushed his teeth this year? Now he feels even more bad for the chick from last month.

"Deadpool's my favourite super-hero."

_[What the fuck]_

_{Who's writing this crap?}_

Wade was picking the toothbrush off the floor which Deadpool apparently dropped. He went over to the sink to wash it.

"Will you stop doing that? Jesus."

"Doing what?"

" _Pretending to fucking like me!_ You think saying shit like that is gonna make me all mushy? You that fucking desperate to have someone give a shit about you? _No one_ gives a shit about you. Not in this world, not in your old world. It doesn't matter what you do. You're just _not worth it_."

Wade stood there, clutching the toothbrush, listening to Deadpool's rant. Everything in this world was so _different_. Peter told him everything will be okay. That he was safe. That he's gonna go to a nice school, make new friends. That what happened to him wasn't his fault. Even Deadpool said that. It was so confusing. So unfamiliar. When Deadpool was mean to him, he knew it was wrong. "Don't listen to him," Peter said. But his body soaked in every word like a dry sponge. He was craving it. He knew what Deadpool was saying wasn't true, because Peter said so. But he _felt_ it was. He wanted to scream _that's not true!_ but his body was screaming _you know it is_. The more cruel Deadpool's words were, the more he felt comforted. The less he had to struggle with what to believe. The easier it was to remember how worthless he was.

"Aww, are you crying?"

He wiped the tears off his cheeks hurriedly. 

"What's wrong? Miss you daddy?"

Wade shook his head. Deadpool kept inching closer, the kid's cowardice fuelling his anger. 

"No? After everything he did for you? Fed you, clothed you, put up with your stupidity for so many years? You're not thankful for that, you ungrateful shit?"

"I-I-I am," Wade whispered, trying to make himself smaller.

He flinched hard when Deadpool put his hand on his head, ruffling his hair.

"Yeah, I know you are. Told your daddy 'thank you' every time, didn't you?"

Wade looked up. Deadpool smiled gently and leaned closer to whisper in Wade's ear. 

" _Good boy_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me.


	11. Chapter 11

Deadpool prides himself in the fact that he can tell which of his bones cracks just by the sound of it. He's pretty sure that was his nose and two ribs. He wipes the blood of his mouth. Yeah, nose. He pushes himself off the ground. Yep, ribs. 

"That's no way to treat a lady."

Spider-Man is standing between him and Wade, breathing heavily.

"You're not a lady, Wade. You're not a man. I'm not even sure if you're a human being."

He picks up little Wade without taking eyes off Deadpool. "Don't follow me."

And he's gone.

\---

"Are you angry with me?"

Wade's sitting on the bed, watching Peter who's going through his drawers, trying to find something that will fit the small boy. He's so pissed at Deadpool that he hasn't said anything to Wade, afraid he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. He stops what he's doing and turns around to stare at the boy.

"Why would I be angry with you?"

Wade's picking at his nails, looking away. He shrugs. 

Note to self: never become a parent. He'd be so, so bad at this. Putting down the shirt he was holding, he slowly walks over to the bed and sits next to the boy.

"Of course I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with Deadpool."

Wade looks devastated. He stands up and starts shaking his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "It wasn't his fault! Please, don't be mad at him!"

Peter takes his hands in his and tries to calm him down, but it doesn't help. 

"Please, let's go back. He's all alone there."

"Wade, hey, come on," Peter tries again, keeping his voice calm, his gestures non-threatening. But Wade's pulling away again, starting to panic even more.

"He'll be so sad, Peter, please! Please, we have to go back!"

Deadpool and Wade were literally the same person and yet so completely different. The connection they had, he noticed it. It didn't make any sense - still, he accepted it. But after what happened back at the apartment... Peter hadn't heard their entire conversation, but he heard more than enough. How was this even possible? How could Wade still insist on defending him? Maybe if he knew who Deadpool really was, but to him he's just a stranger. A stranger who hasn't shown him a lick of kindness.

"Being sad is the least he deserves right now."

"Why? He didn't do anything to you!" Wade yelled, pushing at Peter's chested angrily. "He's never done anything to you, and you're always mean to him!"

He kept pushing at him until Peter grabbed him by the wrists.

"Stop it, Wade, stop defending him!" 

Wade stilled immediately when Peter raised his voice. 

"You don't deserve to be treated like that. You know that, don't you?" The anger drained out of Wade and his arms fell limp when Peter let go.

"I know you care about him. And that's good. You're such a good person, Wade. But that doesn't mean you have to let him treat you that way."

Wade looked less determined with every word. Once again he was torn, not knowing who to believe. Peter always promised such nice things, always treated him like he was important, like he mattered. He wanted to believe him so badly. But how could what Peter was saying be true if that meant what everyone else always told him was a lie?

"Hey, look at me."

He bit his lip, trying not to cry. But he couldn't stop the tears when he saw the kindness in Peter's eyes.

"You remember what I told you that night when I came to get you?"

Wade looked away again quickly, trying to hide his face. He hated thinking about that night. Shame rushed through him, closing up his throat whenever he thought of what Peter saw. How pathetic he must've looked. He imagined how he told Deadpool about it, disgust on his face. 

Peter pushed his chin up gently. 

"You think I would've done all that for someone who wasn't important? I could've helped anyone. But I helped you."

"I didn't want you to," Wade whispered.

"I know. _I_ wanted to. I wanted to save you more than anyone else in the entire world."

"But why?"

Peter held his face with both of his hands now, waiting for Wade to look at him.

"Because you deserve it, Wade. Because you matter. Do you believe me?"

Wade looked at him for a long time. He search Peter's eyes desperately for some hint of a lie. But Peter meant what he was saying. Even if he was wrong, even if Wade really didn't deserve it, even if he didn't matter - Peter believed he did. He believed it so much that he was angry at Deadpool for saying otherwise, no matter how much sense it made. 

He nodded, and Peter smiled. 

\---

The apartment was dark, lit only by the city lights coming in through the window. It was silent except for the crunching sound coming from the bathroom. 

A large bloodied figure lay on the ground, clenching and unclenching his fist filled with shards from the broken mirror, watching the blood drip. 

Pieces of skin scattered around him were slowly drying up, his healing factor covering his naked flesh faster than he could tear it off.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No dialogue, how boring. Just skip this chapter, reader.

He isn't sure why he keeps saying that. It's just that his initial reaction is always to be annoyed with Deadpool. To roll his eyes at him first then actually think about what he'd said. So when someone suggests they're friends, his initial response is »we're _not_ friends.«

In his defense - Deadpool _never_ acted as if his feeling were really hurt, no matter what Peter said. Everyone else did. One way or another, with other people there were always consequences. But with Deadpool? Peter could say or do anything and nothing changed. Deadpool made it perfectly clear that he doesn't care about what Peter says, that he is not affected by it at all. Okay, maybe he didn't make it _perfectly_ clear. But why would he keep coming back if that wasn't the case? Why would he keep showing up unannounced and stay even when it was clear he was unwanted? Even when told directly. 

And why wouldn't Spider-Man take advantage of the situation and let out some anger he'd been holding in?

Deadpool was free to leave and never come back. Yet he did. Again and again and again.

Before long Peter began to notice very subtle hints that showed Deadpool did indeed mind being mistreated. Amazing, right? A person _not_ wanting to be mistreated? Genius, Peter. Some real detective work right there.

Once he noticed it, he couldn't ignore it. How could he have missed the signs before? 

And so Spider-Man would stop using him as his very own punching bag, and slowly Deadpool would begin to open up. Sure, sometimes Spider-Man still said or did something that made Deadpool's guard shoot right back up, but every time he'd let it down sooner and quicker than last time, and Peter would add one more item to the list of things not to mention or do in front of Deadpool.

As it turns out, Peter's face belonged on that list.

When Spider-Man finally felt like he could really trust Deadpool, he took his mask off and showed him Peter Parker. Deadpool left and didn't return for two weeks. Why? Deadpool didn't say, Peter didn't ask.

But he figured it out when Deadpool showed him Wade Wilson.

The mask was the rug under which Deadpool swept everything he didn't like thinking about, all the trash he wanted to ignore. So when the mask came off, all that crap became visible. It had no where to hide. All the insecurity, self-hatred, doubt, sadness. The loneliness. It was all so clear. Wade Wilson was an exposed nerve to Deadpool. 

And that's exactly what he looked like, lying in the giant pool of blood on the bathroom floor. Through the hole in his chest Peter could see the bent or broken ribs, and the absence of a heart. 

He dropped to his knees and vomited into the toilet.


	13. Chapter 13

Not many people in the world could lift someone as large as Deadpool. Spider-Man did it with ease, placing the body into the bathtub. He removed what was left of Deadpool's suit first.

The hole in his chest had mostly healed. The skin that had grown over the new flesh was as scarred as the old one. Peter knew Deadpool wouldn't like this. Wouldn't like Peter seeing his scars, let alone touching them. Maybe it's everything Wade had accused him of, or maybe he had finally realized just how bad the situation is - but he couldn't leave him there like that, dried up blood covering his torn body.

He searched the cabinets for soap and found a bottle of Spider-Man themed shampoo.

So he washed off the blood. 

Making small circles with his fingers, he wished he could wash off the scars.

The shampoo smelled nice. 

And then it didn't.

His air supply was cut off by an iron grip around his throat. The fingers were pressing painfully hard, harder by the second. He clawed at the hand, then as he managed to grab it and pull it off with all the strength he had, the other hand grabbed his head, slamming him against the bathtub.

\---  
Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

Deadpool jumped out of the water and stood in front of Peter's motionless body. 

_{Come on, we gotta check if he's okay!}_

He took a few steps away.

_[What if he's dead? What if you've killed him?]_

He was out the bathroom door now almost running towards the bedroom.

_{You killed Spidey!}_

He started going through a pile of dirty clothes, throwing on anything he could find. Luckily he also got a pair of gloves, and a scarf to wrap around his head. Now he could check on Petey. He ran back as fast as he could, falling down to his knees next to him. 

No blood. Heartbeat. Breathing. 

He picked him up gently, carried him to the couch and sat down beside him.

_[Thought you said you'd never hurt him.]_

»I didn't--«

_[Ohhh, right, you didn't **mean** to, right?]_

_{You slammed his fucking head against the bathtub!}_

_[Guess your pride's more important than Peter.]_

_{You know, if you kill him now he'll never have to look at you again.}_

_[Come on, you've killed a gazillion people, what's one more?]_

_{Better than poisoning him slowly with your presence.}_

His gloves were off. His left hand was bleeding, covered in cuts. 

_[Hey, we don't have three hands, do we?]_

Another hand was holding his right hand tightly in place.

»Wade, drop the knife.«

He looked to his left. 

_{Petey!}_

»Wade, open your right hand.«

Deadpool did as he was told. There was a metallic sound, then Peter let go of him and quickly snatched the knife from the floor. Deadpool closed his eyes and tried not to forget what Peter's hand felt like on his. 

He'd kill the entire world for Peter. Rip the heart out of every single human being alive. Rip out his own heart too.

Then a chest was pressed to his own and two thin arms reached around him. 

It felt strange. 

Warm. 

The two hands were making circles on his back and it was one of the most comforting things Deadpool had ever felt.

»It's okay, it's okay, Wade, I got you, you're safe.«

One hand reached up towards the back of his neck where his skin was exposed and rested there, the fingers moving across his skin so slowly and gently it felt like a lullaby.

_[Oh. Right]_

_{Knew it.}_

Deadpool realized what was going on.

So he wrapped his arms around the hallucination and cried.


	14. Chapter 14

The worst thing about Deadpool is that he's got nothing and no one to blame it on.

He can't blame it on Weapon X. It was before that. Can't blame it on the cancer either. It was before that too.

There's no moment in time to pinpoint. He just knows there's a before and after. 

Little Wade is from the time before. 

He picks up bugs carefully and carries them outside. He sees a couple kissing in the park and smiles.

Deadpool is from the time after.

He expertly cuts bugs in half with his katana. He shoots a man and smiles at the thought of their lover's pain.

You could list Deadpool's bad qualities all day. But that's the only one that really scares him.

He likes hurting people.

"Here, drink this."

He takes the glass of water and does as he is told.

The doorbell rings. Some words are being exchanged and the smell of spicy food fills the air. He feels sick.

"Hey, I forgot. You like Mexican, right?"

Deadpool stares at the broken glass on the floor. 

"Wade, come on, please..."

A hand rests on his shoulder. He's gonna throw up.

"You're not real," he whispers to himself.

"Wade?"

"You're not him."

The ghost leans closer.

"Wade, can you look at me?

_{Don't look at him!}_

No. He's done this a million times. If he looks at him and sees Peter's handsome face looking at him worriedly, looking at him like he cares, he'll break. And at his most vulnerable, the hallucination will turn nasty. So nasty that even the boxes are afraid of it. It'll spew words at him through Peter's mouth that will make him tear his ears off. It won't help, but he'll try anyway. He'll scream and slash and cut faster than he can heal until his body finally succumbs to the injuries.

"No."

"Okay. Will you eat something then?"

He nods. Peter unwraps the food and hands it to him. Deadpool takes it and does as he's told. It tastes like bile. 

Peter sits down next to him.

"This is from Wade." He hands him a piece of paper.

It's a drawing of Deadpool fighting a giant robot, with people in the back cheering for him.

On the bottom it says _Please come visit me!! From Wade._

"He says he dreamt it."

Little Wade is from the time before. He believes people are good. When they're not, he dreams they are.

Deadpool is from the time after. He believes people are bad. When they're not, he hallucinates they are.

"I'm gonna clean the apartment a bit. There's another taco here in the bag if you want it, and more water on the table right here. Okay?"

"Okay."

Sometimes his dreams start out bad. Sometimes they start out good.

Really good.

Spider-Man knocks on his window and he lets him in. Peter takes off his mask and smiles. They watch TV, eat, talk, laugh. They do things friends do. Things couldn't get better but they do. Suddenly Peter is closer, and he can feel his eyes on him. _"Take off the mask,"_ he says. _"Why?"_ Peter smiles, looks at his lips. _"Please."_ Deadpool reaches up, tugs his mask off and leans closer barely an inch. 

They never end good. Peter's mouth twists in disgust as he looks at him, pushing him away angrily. _"What the hell is wrong with you?"_

Only one time did Deadpool do something other than cower away. 

He pushed back. Kept pushing until he cornered Peter whose anger turned to fear. For once Deadpool was the one in charge and Peter the one at his mercy. And when he finally tasted his lips he lost all control. Peter fought and begged and cried, and Deadpool took.

\---

"I'll be back tomorrow morning."

_"Can't I come over?"_

"Not just yet, Wade. But soon, I promise."

_"Did you give him the picture?"_

"Of course I did, he loved it."

_"No, he didn't."_

Peter leaned back on the wall and sighed.

"Everything's gonna be alright. There's pasta in the fridge."

_"Please don't be mean to him."_

He watched Wade from a distance who was still sitting on the couch and hadn't moved a muscle.

"I won't. I promise."


	15. Chapter 15

Peter took the spare mask he found over to the couch.

"Here," he said, handing it to Deadpool who took it without a word.

"You want me to leave so you can put it on?"

Deadpool nodded.

Peter left to finish cleaning up quickly, Deadpool's behaviour - or lack thereof - unnerving him. He was completely out of it. So much so that he apparently didn't notice large parts of his face were visible through the scarf wrapped around his head carelessly. Peter reached up to feel the bruising around his neck. Deadpool had never hurt him before, not like this.

He checked to see if he'd put his mask on then went over to sit by him on the couch.

What now? There were only two possible outcomes. Either he completely screws this up or he doesn't. Felt wrong to turn on the TV. Should they sit in silence? Should he wait for him to say something first? Should he talk about what happened, or about the weather? If Peter's life is any indication, he's definitely gonna screw this up. Ruin this entire friendship because he was too selfish and arrogant to ever really listen or pay attention to him or consider his feelings.

"I have to say a few things. Will you look at me?"

Could he even hear him? 

"Wade, please. You're really starting to scare me."

Finally. Deadpool's fingers curled into a tight fist and his head turned slightly towards Peter. 

Peter was breathing with increasing difficulty, could feel energy being drained out of him as if he was in a battle. He could rarely predict Deadpool's reactions but now it was nearly impossible.

"How much longer?" came Deadpool's rough voice.

Peter swallowed. "How much longer what?"

Then the tension was gone, Wade's shoulders slumping and his hands going limp. He raised his head, staring at the TV screen in front of him. "Okay. You win."

His hand reached up to grab the top of his mask and he pulled it off. Taking one long, deep breath, he turned to the left and looked straight at Peter with dead, empty eyes. You'd probably miss it, and maybe it was just his spidey sense, but for a split second Peter saw fear so intense it nearly overwhelmed him. "Go on then," Deadpool said, his voice giving away nothing.

"I-"

No. For once he needs to think before speaking. Peter looked down and stared at his hands for what felt like a very long time. When he looked back up, Deadpool hadn't moved and his expression hadn't changed. Peter bit his lip to keep it from trembling and willed himself to maintain eye-contact. The moment he opened his mouth to speak he felt the urge to look away but he fought it.

"Wade... You're my best friend."

The corners of Deadpool's lips curled up slightly and Peter could almost taste the bitterness of that smile. "You're really trying to outdo yourself this time," Deadpool said, looking almost impressed.

Peter frowned. "S-So, like I said, you're my best friend. And I-"

He closed and opened his mouth a few times, trying to get the words out. Looking away self-consciously, he took another deep breath then looked at Deadpool again.

"And I haven't been acting like it. God, everything Wade's been saying is true. You've never done anything to me, you've been kind and selfless and all I've ever done was hurt you and punish you for it and I don't even know how you can stand me anymore, the things I've said to you, I- I feel like I'm gonna throw up just thinking about it, I- I can't even remember a single nice thing I've ever said or done to you, and all I can do is promise I'll never do it again and say sorry but how can I say that when I don't even think I deserve your forgiveness, I--"

Peter stopped abruptly, trying to focus on his breathing. His heart was racing, chest hurting, his vision completely blurred by tears he hadn't even noticed until now. He wiped his eyes hurriedly.

Just as his wet palms left his eyes and he turned his head back up, terrified but eager to see Wade's reaction, a familiar pain shot through his neck as fingers squeezed at the fresh bruises.

"You're really fucking persistent today," Deadpool said through clenched teeth, wiping his own tears with the other hand. 

And, deja vu. Peter managed to get his fingers between his neck and Deadpool's hand, tearing it away, when the other hand grabbed him by the back of his head, this time not slamming him against the bathtub but pulling him forward until his lips met Wade's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys we need to climb out of this angst hole but it just ain't happening someone save me


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the comments and feedback, so appreciated<3 Sorry for this super short chapter!

This is the part where everything goes wrong. 

But god, it felt good. So good he forgot it wasn't real for a fraction of a second and in that moment Deadpool's heart was filled with so much joy he thought he might die, and for the first time in a long time he didn't want to.

Then reality hit as he felt Peter's hand on his shoulder, preparing to push him off violently with Peter looking at him like _that_ , like Deadpool's skin was the worst thing he's ever come in contact with, like someone just pushed his head into a toilet. He squeezed Peter's neck harder, holding him in place desperately, hoping to put off the inevitable.

Often when he hallucinated or dreamt about him, Peter didn't have his super strength. This time he did, and he managed to tear himself away despite Deadpool's desperate efforts at keeping him close. It felt so real, more real than ever.

Peter held him firmly at arm's length, trying to catch his breath, and Deadpool stopped fighting, readying himself for what was to come. The yelling, the beating, the cruel words.

But then the hands left his shoulders, sliding up to hold his face and suddenly Peter was moving towards him, so close he could smell his hair and feel his warmth, and then his lips, pressing so gently he could barely feel them through the cracked skin of his own.

In that short second Deadpool could swear his life flashed before his eyes and every single moment of it felt worthless and pointless because what meaning did anything else have compared to this? And how could he have ever wished and begged and prayed for death when this was possible?

And Peter did not scream and cry, nor laugh and mock, but wrapped his arms around him and whispered "thank you," and they stayed like that for the longest time until Peter mumbled "I'm gonna fall asleep if we don't move" with a smile and Deadpool pulled him closer, holding him even tighter, not forcefully but pleadingly, and so Peter melted back into the embrace with a long exhale and they fell asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

His skin was itching. 

It was a particular kind of itch, the kind that had a very specific message for him. The kind that reminded him that he doesn't get to pretend, he doesn't get to forget who and what he is.

_[Oooh, the itch, the itch is back. You feel that?]_

_{Sure do!}_

But Deadpool was fine. He dragged his nails from his chin over his chest, the itch mildly annoying but nothing more. For once he had a good dream. Hallucination. Whatever. It was a good one. He inhaled, leaned back on the couch and exhaled slowly, satisfied. 

"Why did you _do that_?!"

His eyes shot open and in a split of a second he was on his feet, gun in hand.

"I told you he was my friend and you killed him!"

Deadpool swiftly made his way to the kitchen where the voice was coming from. Unnoticed until he was standing two feet behind the person.

Peter was facing towards him holding a newspaper. When he looked up, little Wade turned around.

"Deadpool!" 

Peter rolled his eyes and sat down with a slight frown. Wade's tiny arms were around Deadpool's waist faster than he could react.

This was real. 

This was really real. This was really Wade. This was really Peter. 

But the question was: when did the hallucination end and this begin?

"I heard killing."

"Peter killed my friend!" Wade told him, glancing at Peter angrily. Peter just sighed loudly and said nothing.

"You have friends other than the cockroach you've been feeding?"

Wade hugged him tightly again and buried his head in his chest. 

Wait...

"Yep. I killed Tony the cockroach."

This was so embarrassing. 

Everything about the situation with Wade was embarrassing. God knows what the kid's told Peter. This kid was a fucking database of the worst part of Deadpool's life and Peter had unlimited access to it.

"How about we get you a cat?"

All eyes were on him now - Peter gaping at him like he just suggested they assassinate the president, Wade looking at him wide-eyed like he just suggested they - well, get a cat.

"Okayletsgo" and he was grabbing Deadpool's hand and heading for the door. He was literally shaking with excitement. 

"W-Wait, wait!" Peter jumped from his chair. "I'll come with you."

"No! We're going alone," Wade said a little too vehemently for Deadpool's taste. 

"Wade, I- I don't-" Peter glanced at Deadpool, opened and closed his mouth a few more times then backed away, unsure of himself. "Uh, okay. Okay, yeah," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. 

_[Aww, he's gonna risk the safety of a child to avoid hurting our feelings]_

_{So romantic!}_

"Nah, Petey's right, you should go with him."

Wade crossed his arms and shrugged.

Peter relaxed visibly, relieved at not having to send the kid out alone with the crazy merc.

"We'll all go together," he said, smiling warmly at Deadpool.

"I'll go get my jacket," Wade said, running out of the kitchen, too excited to keep pouting.

_[Ha! Peter's afraid he'll come back to our guts plastered over the floor again]_

_{Yeah, the cat might eat them and get sick}_

"Shut up."

_[It wouldn't get sick, the healing factor's in our blood!]_

_{Hmm, but is our healing factor strong enough to fight like three dozen STDs that the cat would also be getting?}_

_[Would it also get the crazies?]_

Deadpool's hand reached up to cover his eyes, thumb and middle finger squeezing at his temples.

_{It'd slice up little mice just to watch 'em bleed!}_

_[I think cats already do that.]_

"Shut up."

Warm hands wrapped around Deadpool's hand and pulled it away.

"Wade," Peter whispered softly, pushing Deadpool's chin up gently to meet his eyes.

"Hey," he smiled and for a moment Deadpool doubted the hallucination ever ended. "Let's go?"

No. Deadpool did not want to go. He wanted to stay right here, this close, for as long as physically possible, so long they got to the brink of dying from dehydration and he would cut open his wrist and let Peter drink him dry, and when they reached starvation he would carve out his heart and watch Peter eat it.

"Okay."


	18. Chapter 18

There were so many cats. All colors and ages and sizes. Cute, grumpy, fat, tiny, ugly, scared, loud... 

Peter did not understand the point of cats. But did he say that out loud? No, siree. He definitely did not want to give Wade yet another reason to dislike him. Why'd he agree to Deadpool being the one to wait outside? 

"Hey, how about this one, Wade? Looks like it's still a kitten," Peter called, trying to sound excited.

"Yeah, that one's really nice, very playful," the shelter worker commented, sticking her finger inside the cage, wiggling it around and the kitten poked at it happily. "Indoor cat, used to apartments too."

"Well, that sounds perfect," Peter said, looking around to find Wade. But Wade was standing on the far end of the long room filled with cages, staring at one of them. "Wade?"

Peter and the girl walked over.

"This one, Peter."

Peter peeked inside. A large black cat pressed against the corner of the cage hissed at him. It looked like every other black cat except that one of it's eyes was missing.

"This fella's been with us for a while. He's from the streets. Never really gotten used to the place. You'd have to be really careful with him, though."

"Wade, come look at that kitten first, huh? It was _really_ adorable," Peter tried, glancing at the scary black cat again.

"What's this?" Wade asked, pointing at a red symbol on the cage.

"Well, that means this little guy's the next in line, I'm afraid. We only have a limited amount of space here so if no one adopts them, we have to put them down to make space for new ones."

"What do you mean?"

The girl bit her lip and looked at Peter. 

"Uh, Wade, they, uh- well, they kill them. Painlessly."

Wade just stared at him for a few moments with a black expression, the new bit of information probably hard to swallow for a kid. He looked at the shelter girl, then at the dozens of cages in the room, then turned back around to face the cage with the red symbol.

"You're gonna kill him?"

The girl put her hand on Wade's shoulder carefully, "I'm sorry, sweetie. But you can save him. Do you want to take him home?"

Wade nodded.

"He's gonna be hard work. You'll have to be patient with him and love him no matter what."

"Yes, always," Wade said, still looking at the cat, and Peter could hear his voice breaking a little.

The girl looked at Peter for approval then walked out to get the papers.

Oh boy. This was such a mistake, he could feel it. He's going to end up taking care of the stupid cat, feeding it, cleaning the poop, getting attacked and scratched, and-

Wade's arms were wrapped around him and seeing his big smile melted Peter's heart. Yeah, okay. If this is how happy the stupid cat's gonna make him then fine, Peter can clean cat poo.

"But you're _not_ naming him Deadpool."

Wade pulled back and glared at Peter. " _I wasn't gonna_."

The girl returned with the papers and they filled it out. 

"You want to change the name?" she asked, looking at Peter. 

He opened his mouth to say they haven't thought about it yet, and maybe add how utterly pointless it was anyway since the cat's never going to respond to it anyway, but he didn't get the chance.

"Catpool!" Wade yelled over his shoulder.

_Ugh... Knew it._


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys, I'm busy with school :(

"Deadpool, bring the box!" Wade motioned for him to get inside, his arms flailing about excitedly.

Deadpool got up from his chair, taking the cat carrier with him. The smile on his face was too small and gentle to be seen through his mask.

"Guess what his name is!" Wade whispered as they got inside, walking over to their cat's cage. "Come on, guess!"

"Target practice?"

Wade stopped dead in his tracks.

"Don't joke about that."

"Who's joking?"

Wade clenched his fists and stared up at him. "If you hurt him I'll kill you."

_[Whoa.]_

Peter's hand grabbed Wade's shoulder and spun him around. "Don't talk like that!"

The anger seemed to disappear from the boy as he met Peter's eyes. "Sorry, Peter."

"You too, Deadpool," Peter said, looking at Deadpool.

They all stood there for a few long seconds, Peter with his hands on his hips, the two Wades staring at the ground, looking like two kids whose father just found them making trouble.

"Wade, tell him what the cat's name is."

"Catpool," Wade mumbled, not looking at Deadpool.

_{Aww...That's-}_

_[Stupid.]_

_{Was leaning towards creepy.}_

"Deadpool, anything you want to say?"

"Yeah, h-"

"Good. Now behave, both of you."

By the time they were done with the fighting, scolding and pouting, the shelter girl had already gotten the carrier, put the cat in and brought it back to them.

Peter thanked her, took the carrier and ignored Wade's insisting that he can carry it as they made their way to aunt May's car.

Wade sat in the back with the carrier next to him, smiling at the animal constantly and making disgustingly loving noises at it. Deadpool tuned out the sounds around him as his brain focused entirely on the way Peter's hands wrapped around the steering wheel, the way his eyes focused on the road, the way his fingers flipped the blinker on and off, the way he glanced at the rear-view mirror and smiled warmly.

Peter caught him staring and met his eyes for a split second, his smile turning awkward, forced. Deadpool turned right to stare through the window.

"Deadpool, look!" Wade said with a big grin, pointing inside the carrier.

He turned around to look.

An ugly, mean looking beast stared back at him. Pitch black fur with pale patches of skin scattered across it's face, one feral eye focused on him, the other gone, replaced by an angry scar.

_[Haha, Catpool!]_

_{Great casting!}_

Deadpool moved his head slowly to look at Wade who was still smiling at him.

"Catpool, huh?"

Wade nodded proudly.

"Couldn't find an uglier animal to name after your favourite merc?"

Wade's hand shot across the cage to cover it up, as if trying to prevent the cat from hearing the words.

"He's _not ugly_!" he half-yelled half-whispered menacingly.

Wade's hand flinched as he cried out, quickly jumping away from the cage. There was a long line across his palm, blood drops forming along it.

Deadpool felt a quick flash of anger, barely stopping himself from reaching to grab the cage and throw it out of the moving car.

But then Wade was sliding back over again, sticking his face too close to the crate, his still bleeding hand laying on the bars, his eyes looking gently at the beast who just attacked him. The cat hissed at him and he whispered "I'm sorry."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long and sorry for this short-ass chapter!

His skin was acting up again. 

That feeling he will never grow used to no matter how familiar it has become. Like he was covered head to toe with tiny creatures gnawing at his scars and wounds, pulling his skin apart. 

_{Seriously? Imaginary fleas?}_

_[The voices in your head aren't enough?]_

Times like this he felt well beyond uncomfortable being around Peter. Because being around Peter meant he had to forget who he was, ignore reality – and that was not easy to do when the pain was too much to ignore. Yet here he was, sitting stiffly on the couch with Peter's head on his shoulder, feeling the younger man's jaw move against his skin as he chewed on stale chips and made the occasional comment about the sports game he knew nothing about.

How could he crave day and night for any sort of intimate contact with Peter yet when it finally happened he got no pleasure out of it? He was so damn good at lying to himself – why couldn't he pretend this was more than just a reminder of what he will never have? Was his dream really so impossible that even someone as delusional as him couldn't see it as otherwise?

»I guess now that Wade's busy with the cat, mommy and daddy finally have some time alone, huh?« Peter said and patted Wade's knee.

_[Whoa.]_

Peter felt Deadpool's body stiffen even more than it had been for the last half an hour, and he quickly raised his head from his shoulder.

»Kidding,« he laughed awkwardly and glanced at Wade's direction. 

He cleared his throat, facing the TV again. »Pretty irresponsible leaving Wade alone with that crazy cat, right?«

 _[Well, he did leave him alone with_ us _once…]_

»Kid's got my genes, Petey – you should be worried about finding cat organs in the fridge in the morning.«

Peter stopped chewing and sighed loudly. »Your genes aren't _evil_ , Wade.«

»All me then, huh?«

Peter turned his head again to look at Wade.

»It's nature versus nurture. Certain events in your life…«

»Aww, bet you say that to all the villains.«

Peter sat up straight, reaching to put his hand on Deadpool's shoulder but stopping himself as he caught the way the other man's body stiffened in fear of contact.

»You're not… You don't do that stuff anymore. I mean, you haven't in a long time,« he said earnestly.

»I haven't really had the time to take up a new job what with all the domestic heaven going on around here.«

Peter smiled at him warmly, resting his hand gently on his shoulder, and Deadpool jumped to his feet in response.

»You're not hearing me, Petey. I just literally _haven't had the time_. I've been itching for a killing for days. I've literally been day-dreaming about slicing up that nice little girl from the shelter – I'm not fucking _joking_ , Peter. I _need_ to _kill_ something.«

_[Wow, this is not very sexy]_

_{I don't think Spidey here's really into gore}_

And according to the look on Peter's face, the boxes were definitely right. Too much information.

Peter got up and made no attempt to get any closer to him. 

_[I don't like the way he's looking at us]_

Peter looked away, swallowing nervously. »I… I'm gonna go check on Wade.«

He took a few steps back then walked around the couch and headed towards the bedroom without looking at Deadpool.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! So sorry it took so long. Feedback appreciated as always!

It was barely audible, but if you pressed your fingers gently against his throat, you could feel it vibrating.

Finally. He was finally purring.

Wade sat awkwardly on the pillow with his back against the bed, trying his best not to move or do anything that would scare the cat. Catpool lay in his lap, almost as awkward and tense as Wade, not really allowing himself to enjoy the hand stroking his fur, but not making an attempt to flee either. This cat has never been cuddled in his entire life. Not once. This was the very first time.

Well, maybe. Cats don't speak human, so really there's no way of knowing. But Wade knew. Because he could speak the language.

Not cat language, of course. Just... _the_ language. It was hard to explain. But he could feel what Catpool felt, and that told him more than words ever could. 

And it told him this was the first time Catpool felt like life could be something other than pain and fear.

It cost Wade a whole bunch of scratches all over his arms, legs and face to get to this point, but how else could it have happened? How could you expect someone to show love and kindness if they were only aware of the existence of pain and fear? So Wade kept going, showing Catpool over and over that he would never, ever hurt him. That he wasn't just a pest anymore, a nuisance, and not invisible either. 

Just like Peter showed Wade, and tried to show Deadpool. But Deadpool spoke less in words and more in the language. And Peter didn't speak the language very well.

Catpool tensed in his lap and let out a growl. 

"What's wro-"

Ouch. Three new parallel lines formed along his calf as Catpool jumped off and ran to hide behind the closet, his favourite hiding place.

"Oh my god, Wade, your face!"

"I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine," Wade insisted and got up before Peter could fall to his knees dramatically. He's just going to blame Catpool and use this as another reason to hate him.

"I knew it, that cat was a bad choice, Wade, I told you, god, I shouldn't have just let you-"

"Okay, let's take him back."

Peter stared at him, trying to say something but failing. "Wh-, uh, I... re- really?"

"He's mean, and ugly. Not worth the trouble."

Peter looked completely taken aback, shocked to hear the boy say something like that.

"That's how we treat people, right? So why not a stupid cat."

Finally, it dawned on Peter, his face softening as he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and exhaled.

"Okay, Wade. I get it, I do."

Peter sat on the bed and waited for Wade to sit next to him.

"But there's something you need to understand. There are bad people in the world. Not like... Not like the cat, Wade. I mean really, really bad people. And you can't just give them treats until they cuddle up in your lap. Some people... Some people are just bad, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Maybe Peter was right. He was a super-hero, he met bad people all the time. And maybe no one could fix them. Maybe it was too late for some of them.

Wade stared at the yellow post-it note in his hands that he'd been folding and unfolding nervously.

"Deadpool's not one of those people."

"I'm not saying he is. But you shouldn't be so unconditionally convinced that he isn't, either. I know you want to believe in him, Wade, but maybe all that's going to do is get you hurt. And it has, so many times, hasn't it?"

Peter's words made sense. But there were two important things he was missing. Even if Peter was older and wiser than him, he couldn't see the things Wade saw. He didn't feel them as well as Wade felt them. He didn't speak the language. Spoken words could lie, even actions could lie. But the language always told the truth. And Wade _knew_ Deadpool was not one of those bad people. It wasn't too late for him.

The other thing Peter didn't know was that Wade didn't care about getting hurt. He didn't mind. No matter how small the chance of making Deadpool better was, it was worth the pain.

But none of that mattered. Because Wade couldn't make Deadpool better. No one could. No one except Peter.


	22. Chapter 22

Peter downed the last shot of what was probably his monthly pay worth of vodka. It's not easy for a super spider like him to get drunk, but it's doable. Where there's a will, there's a way. And oh boy, was there a will.

He started out sorta aiming for that fun, light buzz normal people get after a couple of beers, the kind that says 'I have some problems in my life right now but it only takes a drink with 4.9% alcohol content to make me forget about it', but that didn't really go exactly as planned. I mean, it kinda did - he reached the buzz and was totally going to stay there, as he leaned back to relax on the sofa and closed his eyes, mouth just barely turned up in a lazy smile... Feeling that slow, ambient jazz move through the dim lights of the bar, almost caressing the soft skin of his ears, so gently apart from the occasional high pitch of the trumpet that gave it that rough feeling, like the hand stroking his jaw was dry and coarse, the scraping feeling in contrast with the sweet and loving motion of the hand as the thumb lightly brushed across his lips, and finally the hand held him more firmly, pressing and pulling him up and forward until he met Wade's -

" _NO!_ "

Peter's sudden outburst earned him all kinds of looks from practically every person in the bar as even the drummer skipped a beat before the room slowly relaxed again. Which is more than could be said about Peter.

And now it's 2:28 am and the calming, soft murmuring of the bar is gone, replaced by the loud bangs of instruments and equipment being packed and taken away, and that normal people buzz he reached three hours ago was replaced by a state that is probably a few shots away from a coma. Which, as it turns out, also appears to be the only state in which he can stop being aware of the fact that he maybe wants to kiss the criminally insane professional killer who gets jumpy if he has to go a few weeks without murdering anyone.

So, in short - a serial killer. You know, if we're generalizing.

He lets out a short, desperate laugh and realizing for the hundredth time the sheer shittiness of the situation gives him enough strength to lift his head off the table and sit up.

He can't tell if the silhouette before him is real or not, or make out the words, but 'leave' seems to have been repeated half a dozen times so he nods slowly and carefully so the momentum of his head doesn't make him fall over, and then he's being surprisingly politely carried somewhere cold, which he figures is outside.

For a moment he frowns as he worries about driving home but then smiles, remembering he doesn't have a car, then frowns again, thinking how to get home, then smiles, remembering he's Spider-Man, the superhero. And then frowns, remembering he's Spider-Man, the superhero who risks his life to save people and then gets a boner thinking about scarred lips of mass murderers.

Something cold and hard hits the side of Peter's face, which he later assumes was probably a building, before he lands on his ass in a particularly painful manner, as it usually is with these things. His shirt seems to be torn and there's web stuck on his pants, and if he concentrated really hard he would probably realize there's a broken bone somewhere in his body, but right now he's busy trying to figure out how Deadpool's building got here.

He aims at the window and misses, tries again, misses again, squints his eyes which doesn't help and steadies his hand which starts shaking even more and shoots for the third time, just as someone's head appears on the window. The web slaps itself over their face and Peter's instincts kick in as he pulls at the web automatically, then his instincts kinda kick back out as he just stands there watching the person fall from the third story window.

He figures he's supposed to do something now but his knees give out and he falls to the ground, emptying the contents of his stomach which appear to consist of vodka and stomach acid only. He's pretty sure that's vomit on his hands but he can't seem to move.

"Peter?"

Oh and he knows that voice, rough like the hands he imagined caressed him, words formed by the scarred lips he imagined kissed him. And when they say his name it's always so careful, so fearful, like the word is some antique china they're handling and afraid they might break.

"Peter, is that you? Fuck, what happened? Who did this?"

_You happened, you did this_ , Peter thinks as he balances on one hand to wipe his mouth with the other.

"Were you poisoned? Shit, Petey, what do I do?"

"I'm drunk," Peter tries to say but he's fairly certain that's not even close to the sounds he actually makes.

Deadpool's really starting to panic and Peter takes a deep breath and forces out the word "drunk" as clearly as possible, and apparently clearly enough because Deadpool stops flailing around, though the ground keeps on spinning. He hears a relieved laugh, then he's being scooped up and pressed against something warm that feels safe and perfect and with the gentle rocking of the walk he falls asleep before they reach the apartment.

\---

When he opens his eyes it's still dark, even darker than before, and for a moment he panics, feeling and grabbing around for something familiar until he remembers, sort of, vaguely, what happened and where he most likely is. He stumbles out of bed, stepping on a small piece of something that feels like the worst thing you could step on barefoot, then nearly slipping on something with the texture of a tortilla but the smell of mold, and finally making it out the door into the living room that is illuminated by the city lights coming in through the window. And the red figure is spread out across the couch, with one arm slung across his unmasked face, covering his eyes. Peter stands there, a little creepily, watching the man's chest rise and fall in what must be the most calming motion he's ever seen, but his eyelids are heavy and legs weak, so he walks over to the couch and lays down, pressing his palm against the moving chest to feel the rhythm, then closes his eyes and falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been forever. Sorry, guys!


	23. Chapter 23

Peter wakes with adrenaline already pumping through him, aware of the unfamiliarity of his surroundings before he even fully opens his eyes. Realizing where he is, he lets out a sigh and drops back down on the couch, groaning a little because it seems the thing to do after a night of heavy drinking. He hates that his healing factor always prevents him from experiencing a well-deserved hang-over, but he's glad it doesn't make blurry memories any clearer. Drunk Peter is worst Peter.

He remembers going into the bar. He doesn't remember leaving the bar. Definitely doesn't remember how he got _here_. He sits up on the couch, wrapping himself in the blanket, and looks around. There's a small heater next to the couch, blowing warm air in his direction. There's a glass of water and some candy on the table. And the blanket smells clean and fresh. 

Peter lazily shoots a web at the candy. It's Spider-Man themed - of course it is. He crumples up the wrapper with his masked face on it and throws it on the floor. If only people knew what a mess of a person he was. They wouldn't let him protect their city. Call him a hero... Let alone make his own themed candy. What would people say if they saw him now? Or last night? Stumbling around the city blind drunk, probably being put to bed by the infamous mercenary. 

"Aren't you going to catch him?" they'd ask, "aren't you going to web him and call the police, Spider-Man?" 

"Oh, well, you know, haha. No," Peter would say. "Because we're kinda friends, and it's okay to murder people if you're friends with Spider-Man!" 

Peter throws another wrapper at the floor, chewing the candy angrily. He spends an entire hour like that, occasionally yelling "Wade?" to check if the man had woken up yet. 

Open mouth, full of candy, he's about to call for him again, when the door flies open, banging against the wall once and bouncing back shut, but not before someone slips inside. Or rather, two someones.

A young girl is standing there, arms wrapped around herself, bloodstains all over her white dress.

"Whoo-whee! That was a close one!" Deadpool exclaims, holstering his gun. He turns to face the frightened girl. "You okay, princess?"

The girl flinches and takes a step back before the merc grabs her arm and shoves her towards the couch, making her stumble.

"Alright! Now you go ahead and relax, watch some TV, paint your nails, feed on some boy's soul and so forth. Just dooon't try to run, pretty lady," he says, wiggling his finger at her, "or I'll have to make a hole in your pretty lady face. Okie dokie?"

The girl nods and smiles at him.

Peter drops the n-th wrapper and shoots a web at Deadpool to disarm him.


End file.
